(As told by Helen Roseveare, a doctor
missionary from England to Zaire, Africa)
One night I had worked hard to help a
mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny
premature baby and a crying two-year-old daughter.
We would have difficulty keeping the
baby alive, as we had no incubator (we had no electricity to run an incubator) and no
special feeding facilities.
Although we lived on the equator,
nights were often chilly with treacherous drafts. One student midwife went for the box we
had for such babies and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to
stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle.
She came back shortly in distress to
tell me that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical
climates. "And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the West
it is no good crying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered no
good crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, and there are no
drugstores down forest pathways.
"All right," I said,
"Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can; sleep between the baby and the door
to keep it free from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as I did most
days, I went to have prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with
me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told them about
the tiny baby.
I explained our problem about keeping
the baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it
got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had
died.
During the prayer time, one
ten-year-old girl, Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children.
"Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water bottle. It'll be no good
tomorrow, God, as the baby'll be dead, so please send it this afternoon."
While I gasped inwardly at the
audacity of the prayer, she added by way of corollary, "And while You are about it,
would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love
her?"
As often with children's prayers, I
was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, "Amen"? I just did not believe that
God could do this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Bible says so. But there
are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this particular prayer would be by
sending me a parcel from the homeland.
I had been in Africa for almost four
years at that time, and I had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone
did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I
was teaching in the nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my
front door.
By the time I reached home, the car
had gone, but there, on the verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel!
I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could
not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off
the string, carefully undoing each knot.
We folded the paper, taking care not
to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were
focused on the large cardboard box.
From the top, I lifted out brightly
colored, knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out.
Then there were the knitted bandages
for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored.
Then came a box of mixed raisins and
sultanas -- that would make a nice batch of buns for the weekend.
Then, as I put my hand in again, I
felt the . . . could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out -- yes! A brand-new,
rubber hot water bottle! I cried. I had not asked God to send it; I had not truly believed
that He could.
Ruth was in the front row of the
children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have
sent the dolly, too!"
Rummaging down to the bottom of the
box, she pulled out the small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never
doubted! Looking up at me, she asked, "Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this
dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus really loves her?"
That parcel had been on the way for
five whole months! Packed up by my former Sunday school class, whose leader had heard and
obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator.
And one of the girls had put in a
dolly for an African child -- five months before -- in answer to the believing prayer of a
ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."
"Before they call, I will
answer!" Isaiah 65:24
Helen Roseveare, a doctor missionary
from England to Zaire, Africa, told this as it happened to her in Africa. She told it in
her testimony on a Wednesday night at Thomas Road Baptist Church.
